


Across the sea...

by arda_fata



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Child Prodigy, Childhood Memories, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, is there even a tag for this?, mental bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2537813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arda_fata/pseuds/arda_fata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had heard him first as a little girl... the voice that would walk beside until the very end</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the sea...

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a pilot, no more than a draf...

His voice had reached to her since she was only a little girl, pained constantly with headaches and nose bleedings.

She could hear their thoughts; sense their emotions in her mind. The envy women held against her “upstart” mother, the hypocrisy of men who bowed before her father, but despised his orders and ideals. The ambitious thoughts and schemes of noble parents with young children, whom they hoped they could marry into the royal family.

She had loathed the company of everyone, safe for her mother, father and brothers, whose minds and hearts were always filled with love and tenderness for her.

But the rest of the world, she’d rather avoid, including and particularly their lady nurse. Who only saw them as a chore, a litter of small misbehaved spoiled brats with no credit to their own names.

And Tini escaped her strict paws as often as she could.

And she had heard him first on a lonely storage room, on a forgotten tower from the castle her family called home.

Her clothes were filthy with dust and spots of blood that had escaped her nose when the disastrous choir of voices in her head had finally driven her over the edge.

A four year old with the power of telepathy that caught even the smallest shred of thought. Who didn’t know how to open or close her mind to what she’d rather not hear.

And she had cried as she ran her sleeve under her bloody nose and ran off to where she could be alone for a few hours.

And then his voice had come.

And it had been soothing, calm, healing even, to her small tortured mind.

But it had also been terribly sad… his voice was a song of mourning, the lullaby for a lost life.

And she had, instinctively, reached out.

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He stopped short when he had felt a presence near him.

Small, pure and innocent. The essence of a little child.

Of the likes he hadn’t felt around him since the twins were grown and left him and his brother.

Decades, if not a century ago, maybe more.

He was but a shade of what he had once been, half driven to madness by grief and loss.

Seven.

There had been seven of them, and all of his six brothers had died.

And now here he was, bewildered by the mind of this little white dove reaching to him.

He sat on the sand, where the reach of the waves could touch his tattered feet, and stared as his ragged clothes, that had been a princely attire once, but few of it was left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Little lady…**

The call had drowned the minds of everyone else, and she rested her head on an old dusty cloth, grateful for the relief of his voice around her mind.

_Hello…_

**Hello, little lady…**

She closed her eyes.

_Who are you?_

She almost heard his laughter in her mind, not mocking, but amused.

My name I have almost forgotten… the used to call me a Minstrel, once, long ago…

_Then Minstrel I’ll call you…_

**Call me as you desire, little lady…**

_My name is Tini…_

She felt his smile as if he were next to her.

**Little Lady Tini…**

And she had fallen asleep with his soft humming in his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Tindómiel” her mother’s soft whisper had waken her for a few seconds as she took her in her arms, relief written over her face as she carried her daughter down her rooms.

Carlia had known the sensibility of her daughter’s powers since she was only weeks old.

It pained her heart to see her baby suffer from something that ought to have been a gift. But she would learn to control her powers, in time, as all of their kind had learned before her, and then she would be unstoppable.

For the time being it would be her place and Elros’s to make sure their girl was safe and protected.

Carlia entered the royal chambers and saw her husband breathe in relief at the sight of his daughter safe in her arms. Silently, walked past him to the bathroom, where a steaming tub, scented with oils awaited them.

“Mama…” the girl mumbled as her mother undressed her with a smile.

“Let’s get you out of this dust cloud, alright?” Carlia asked, and the girl nodded sleepily before her mother eased her gently in the tub.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Elros ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could do something more for his daughter.

For some advice or counsel on what he should do. But the only paternal figure he could think of was off away, wandering the coasts and too lost in his pain. He hoped Maglor could find peace someday.

He sat on the bed and sighted. At least Tindómiel had been found safe this time… and she had not left the castle. Not two months ago they had found her curling under a tree in the gardens. His thoughts were interrupted when his wife entered the room, with their still sleeping daughter in her arms, dressed in a soft flannel nightgown.

“Where was she?” he asked as Carlia lowered the child in their bed and tucked her in.

“Hiding in a turret” she whispered for her lifemate.

“Is this normal? Carlia, you’re the one with the knowledge here. Is this natural? Will she be alright?” the agony in his voice equal to everything she felt.

“No, at least I don’t think so.” She answered, staring at the flames in the chimney. “I have never seen a Fata unable to control her power at that age…”

“Do you think her mind is weak?” her husband questioned softly.

“No” Carlia shook her head. “Her power is too strong. All the more reason for her to control it… but I know not to aid her. We must find her a teacher.”


End file.
